Tainted
by XantiumRising
Summary: After several months of being with the Decepticons within the Shattered Verse, Cliffjumper is still finding it a hard adjustment. Caught on a scouting mission, and separated, Cliffjumper meets up with an unexpected foe.
1. Chapter 1

Tainted

Well. . .

This was just dandy, he thought, his optics flicking side to side. Of all the places to be separated from his group, this was by far the worst place. Around him, large mounds of rubble denoted where, in ages past, buildings must've stood. Rods of twisted metal stuck out here and there, and the ground glittered in the noon day sun from the ground particles of glass. The landscape was devoid of color, only charred blacks and greys. Worst was the wind that whipped around the mountains of debris, creating an eerie howl that made it so easy for anyone to sneak up on him. Now and again, he'd hear the sound of shifting rubble. Paranoia would spike, and he'd whip around, blaster in hand only to point it at someone that was not there.

It had only happened some six times, though he assuaged his surging spark that it was better to be safe than sorry. There only needed to be one time that someone was actually there to shoot him in the back.

He had tried the comm. Over and over, and all he got was static. They were being jammed, and Autobots were crawling in the area.

Where had those slagging Decepticons gone? Sideswipe had been along, as had a few other ground walking Decepticons. It hadn't exactly been a routine mission, but still, there weren't supposed to be any Autobots! Bad intel always made for worse situations, he thought with a grit of his denta. After some ways into that ruined city, the group had ran into a miserable firefight. Reaching a hand up, the one opposite his rifle hand, he rubbed it over his shoulder which bore a blackened spot that stung slightly. Thankfully, his plating had absorbed most of the blow. The small group, consisting of five mechs, had been forced to split, though he was fairly sure one of those Decepticons had gotten slagged in the face and was down for good. From what he had seen of Sideswipe, he was fairly sure that mech was kicking at least, he just didn't know where the mech was.

Great, just fragging great, he cursed silently as he continued through the barren landscape of artificial mountains. Striding along, he saw something shimmer for only a faint moment, as if the very air had become alive. It rippled, and wavered, but he thought it was only heat. Yes, it was only heat, he was imagining things, and he found himself relieved when it disappeared.

It only took one time of ignoring his instincts to get him in trouble.

A burst of coalescent light pierced through the air and caught him square in the knee. Pain throbbed through his sensory grids as he tumbled down into fine ground debris that made up the roughly hewn path. Grunting, the red mech rolled onto his side, lifting his blaster up, trying to fire upon his assailant when a weight came crashing down on his arm. Howling, his optics flickered as the air around him rippled once again.

"So. . . you're the other Cliffjumper. . ." rasped a voice that was strangely familiar to Cliffjumper, and at the same time not.

As the wavering air started to form into something else, the gunner had already figured it out.

_"Mirage." _

"Ohho. . . I'm honored you know who I am. . ." said the slim mech painted black and blue. Pulling out a pair of electrocuffs, Mirage was quick to lash Cliffjumper's wrists together after he had kicked away the gunner's rifle.

"Only one mech I ever knew who could turn invisible," growled Cliffjumper.

"Heh. . . I am one of a kind. . ." commented Mirage as he kicked over the bound minibot.

Now on his back, Cliffjumper was able to get a good look at the Mirage of the strange world of Cybertron he had come to know in the past few months. As he had made out before, Mirage was black and blue, not blue and white. Like his counterpart, this mech was lithe and slender, all sleek curves. Across his chestplate, black, not white, was that violet brand of the Autobots. Chilling, was how Mirage's face plates even matched the Mirage he knew, except for that little smirk that would've been far more fitting up the Starscream's features. Of course, he meant the Starscream from his verse. . . Violet optics, not golden, stared at him intently as if he were some prey animal. Covering a good half of Mirage's face plate was a mask that was the same shade of dark blue as the other half of his plating. Beneath that mask, Mirage's dermal plating was a shining silver white.

"That's not necessarily a compliment to yourself," Cliffjumper responded dryly at his captor.

"Mmm. . . Your glossa is just as sharp as your counterpart's," Mirage purred before leaning down until he was almost kneeling at Cliffjumper's side.

"Only I'm a good guy, and he wasn't," Cliffjumper smirked before jerking his head away when Mirage chose to probe his dermal plating with his clawed digits. That was different, and Cliffjumper didn't like that at all.

"Guy. . .?" Mirage asked dully as he gripped at Cliffjumper's jaw and jerked the minibot's helm back and forth.

"Oh, that's right, you slaggers haven't been to Earth," Cliffjumper remarked on his momentary use of human slang.

"And I wonder who is to blame for that," crooned Mirage as he grinned to the minibot.

"Slag off, Mirage," Cliffjumper hissed, not at all liking this Mirage. Wincing, Cliffjumper tried to struggle, even with his wrists bound, but he had forgotten where he had been shot. Pain lanced up his leg and he quickly ceased his actions. For the moment.

"You have a dirty little vocalizer, you know that?" Mirage asked before slapping Cliffjumper roughly. "I should pour acid down your throat to teach you better," Mirage added blandly.

Licking the mech blood from his lips, Cliffjumper chose to glare instead of saying anything.

From some distance away, there was a noise, grating almost and Cliffjumper quickly noted how Mirage's helm jerked up and that smug expression fell right off. "We need to go," Mirage commented in a matter of fact tone.

"Heh, hear something you don't like, 'Raj, maybe some of my Decepticon buddies?" Cliffjumper murmured.

"Unfortunately, no," Mirage whispered before pressing his clawed hand over Cliffjumper's mouth. "I'm hardly scared of Decepticons. . . It's the Lost you've got to be frightened of here. . ." Mirage whispered before hauling Cliffjumper up.

Grunting from the pain, the gunner didn't know who the lost were, but he knew the mention of them made most of the Decepticons freeze up as if their lines had frosted up.

The lithe mech was quick to set a demanding pace that was made worse by Cliffjumper's leg. "That stings you slagger," Cliffjumper murmured, "Little hard to move after you shot me."

"You'll suck it up and bear it, unless you want to play with the Lost," Mirage whispered faintly.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time that him and his captor had arrived at a half covered tunnel, Cliffjumper's leg was pure fire. Yet he had kept quiet as Mirage had suggested, even though the minibot wanted to scream until his vocalizer crackled and gave out. Pushed into the small entrance, Cliffjumper tumbled into the pipe, landing on his side with a soft grunt. The light was soon sucked out as Mirage quickly worked to cover the entry way, hiding it like it had been before. In the pitch blackness of the pipe way, Cliffjumper could only see the dim glow of Mirage's violet optics. Wincing, Cliffjumper turned his head away from Mirage when the mech subbed a light that bathed the small tunnel in a orange light.

"Now what? Going to take me to Prime like a good little turbohound?" Cliffjumper sneered.

"Tch, you're so short sighted for a gunner, you know that?" Mirage asked as he snapped the light into an attachment joint in his shoulder, freeing up both of his hands.

"So is that a yes, or a no?" Cliffjumper retorted with a glare.

"Just shut your vocalizer off, or the Lost will hear, and they'll come for you," Mirage whispered as he bent down, hauling the minibot up.

A sharp hiss left Cliffjumper as his leg was disturbed again, "And what about you?"

"I can run," Mirage replied blandly. "Now walk," Mirage commanded as he started forward, helping the injured minibot along.

Each step felt like it took an hour, and he didn't know how much more he could take. To distract himself, he let his thoughts wander to those little tidbits of the Lost that he knew of. Sideswipe had mentioned they were also called the 'Forgotten,' in years past. They once had been mechs and femmes, like those who filled out the ranks of the Autobots and Decepticons, from the way Sideswipe described it. The entire indigenous population of Cybertron hadn't been wiped right off of Cybertron just because of the war. It was true that many had died, but many had survived. Survived was the only word that could exactly describe what some mechs had endured. From what had been said, Cliffjumper might describe the Lost as something akin to some fantasy monster that the humans had invented. He forgot the word, though he knew it wasn't an entirely apt title. Hardly, from reports, the Lost surely didn't amble, and they were hardly stupid, but they did so hunger for the mechblood in the lines of others and there were even rumors that if subsistence grew too thin, they would cannibalize each other.

Atrocious, Cliffjumper thought.

"Here," Mirage said, drawing Cliffjumper out of his thoughts.

Looking up, Cliffjumper could see the black veil of the tunnel lifting, especially when the light on Mirage's shoulder flicked off. The tunnel spilled out into what appeared an old ruin. It was circular and cut from blackened duracrete and the windows that lined its circular walls were empty and bare. Not paying attention, Cliffjumper nearly screamed as he stepped down from the edge of the tunnel and into the building that was nestled into the side of the hill that they must've traveled through via the tunnel. Biting his lip until is bled, Cliffjumper was thankful to find himself deposited against one of the walls while Mirage busied himself with something else.

A look outside of the empty and hollowed window frames revealed that afternoon was turning into evening. The sky had turned from a rusty orange to a deep ocher that at the height of the Cybertronian horizon became almost a violet. Stars had yet to appear, but daylight was fading quickly. Night would be soon upon them.

"What are you going to do with me now?" Cliffjumper asked as Mirage rifled through some bag he had subbed.

"I'm going to make you scream, and after I do that, I'm going to take you until you bleed," Mirage rasped, turning his helm back to look at Cliffjumper with smoldering violet optics.

The thought sickened Cliffjumper, whose features fell before he uttered, "You glitch, I swear I'm going to blow your head off once I'm free."

In response, Mirage laughed, but it was not the laugh Cliffjumper was used to. For one, it wasn't lilting, it was sharp and lower than the Mirage that he knew. In fact, nothing about Mirage's speech even suggested he was a noble.

"Idiot. Like I would really waste time doing that, besides, there's nothing about your frame that could offer me pleasure," Mirage recanted with a bored expression.

Becoming quiet, Cliffjumper chose to ignore Mirage for the moment, though he did look to the slim mech as Mirage padded over with several items in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You're moving too slow," Mirage quickly responded as he knelt down.

Cliffjumper soon made out that the items Mirage had were medical related. "Like you know how to use any of that stuff, you'll just make it worse," Cliffjumper seethed. The minibot didn't want the depraved and evil version of Mirage touching him anymore than what was necessary. Not that he really much enjoyed the Mirage of his verse touching him. If he had the choice, however. . . .

"Too bad," Mirage commented as he grabbed at that injured leg. "Don't even think about kicking me, or I'll do something most unpleasant," Mirage added lowly.

Before he really knew it, Mirage had managed to unsnap the cover plate from Cliffjumper's knee, though most of the cover plate was melted from the blast earlier. The parts beneath were damaged and blackened, but not unsalvageable. Setting that ruined piece of plating down, Mirage started to probe around at the parts.

It stung, but Cliffjumper could already feel the lithe mech getting the literal slag out of his joints. More than a few molten rivulets had trailed down into the mechanisms beneath, jamming them up and causing them to bind. For Cliffjumper, that translated pain.

"So, Mirage, what happened with your accent?" Cliffjumper asked through gritted denta.

"Accent?" Mirage asked, looking up with an upraised optic ridge.

"Yeah, what happened to that fancy noble accent of yours?" Cliffjumper asked, though he found himself half shrieking when Mirage dug his claws into the sides of his shins.

"I am not a noble! I killed them! Nasty little slaggers!" Mirage hissed as his features contorted into a dreadfully ugly expression.

"Stop that, stop it, that hurts, you slagger!" Cliffjumper managed past his cries.

A moment later, now simmering, Mirage removed his claws from the plating on Cliffjumper's leg that was now further damaged, ignoring the mechblood that now stained his hooked digits.

"You'd be best not to mention those to him. . ." chuckled a new mech who stepped out of the tunnel.

The new arrival was the stark opposite of Mirage. Cliffjumper half wondered how the mech had stepped out of the tunnel with such broad shoulders, and a generally broad build all around. The mech was a grey-green and brown, with splashes of gold and violet. Like Mirage, that angry, violet sigil was painted over his chest. Scarlet optics, full of mirth, stared at him. No introductions were needed, Cliffjumper instantly recognized the mech, just as he had recognized Mirage.

"Hound. . ." hissed the minibot, wondering if things could get any worse.

"Curious," commented Hound as he strode over. "Mirage had mentioned you recognized us, despite you clearly not being the Cliffjumper we knew. . ." Hound continued.

Keeping quiet, the red minibot thought it be best not to mention that where he came from, there were versions of Mirage and Hound there. Frowning, Cliffjumper noticed Mirage's helm was bowed now, with his knees tucked under him, and the tips of his fingers touched to the rough floor that rested beneath the three of them. One of Hound's large hands flicked down, rubbing against the back of Mirage's lowered helm.

"You shouldn't have shot him in the leg. . ." Hound murmured softly to the supine Mirage.

"Forgive me," Mirage whispered, helm still low, but pressing his helm against that large hand as if he were a cybercat. "I didn't want to chance shooting him in the chest and offlining him, and I didn't have a good enough shot to simply disarm him. . ." explained the lithe mech.

"No bother, you succeeded nonetheless," Hound complimented, petting Mirage's helm. "I'm hardly so cruel as Prime to punish a mech simply because he had to take a few. . .liberties in a mission. . ." Hound sighed.

"Yes. . ." Mirage whispered sweetly.

The whole scene was repulsive for Cliffjumper. At the same time, the minibot, while not the brightest star in the sky, was hardly so thick not realize that there was something else going on.

"Go on, fix Cliffjumper's knee up, so I don't have to carry him tomorrow, hmm?" Hound asked Mirage who was soon nodding quite animatedly before going back to work.

"Sooo. . . Is there anyone in the Autobots that are actually loyal and like Prime?" Cliffjumper enquired.

"Jazz, Ricochet, a few other worthless and insane wretches," Hound responded flatly.

"And now I'm left wondering how Optimus ever formed the Autobots," Cliffjumper said under his breath.

"Because once, Prime wasn't quite so crazy," Hound chuckled.

A gasp broke from Cliffjumper's vocalizer as Mirage started picking out those pieces of slag again. Pain rolled over his sensory grids, but it was progressively getting better. However, he knew that he'd be terribly sore, and his knee joint would eventually need a small overhaul at very least from such an injury.

"I see," Cliffjumper responded plainly. Pursing his lips for a moment, Cliffjumper considered Hound, watching the mech quietly pad over to the edge of turret like building.

"So, where are you two glitches taking me if you're not taking me to Prime?" asked the minibot, looking to Hound still.

"Now, if I told you that, where would the fun be in that?" Hound responded.

"Fun isn't exactly the word I would use to describe this whole wild turbofox chase. . ." Cliffjumper remarked dryly.

"You'll see tomorrow," Hound answered as he crossed his arms.

There was suddenly a cooling sensation at his pained knee, and Cliffjumper looked down to see Mirage spreading out a salve onto the joints of his knee. The oily substance did help, but it hardly made Cliffjumper at all thankful for the lithe mech's consideration. After all, it had been Mirage who had caused the wound.

"Once Mirage patches you up, you should recharge, get your strength up. It's a long walk tomorrow," Hound suggested.

As if the day he had just gone through hadn't been long enough. By this point, Cliffjumper had given up on any chance of rescue for the time being. Now, the minibot worried how he was going to extricate himself from the fine mess he was in and all on his own. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Cliffjumper awoke to a sensation against his chest plates. Azure optics flicked and Cliffjumper found his optics meeting a pair of violet optics. Giving a jerk, Cliffjumper tried to scoot away, but he remembered that his wrists were bound and he was braced up against a wall. A smile appeared on Mirage's lips as he cocked his head to the side. The expression on Mirage's features made the minibot's plating crawl. There was something insane about the expression, that and lustful.

A glance around revealed that it was still night on their side of Cybertron. It wasn't entirely dark, not with the two moons of Cybertron bobbing over head. Both of them bore the scars of war, and one was clearly ravaged by the massive pockmarks and craters covering its surface from destructive explosives of some sort. The other moon was dim but for the light that shone on it from the sun resting still well below the horizon. Above, higher than even the moons, the stars glittered in the sky, creating a beautiful image above the tattered landscape below.

"Go on, Mirage, don't be shy," came a low croon.

Hound sat just across from where Cliffjumper was, and by extension, Mirage. A wide smirk was spread over his features as he remained prone.

"What the slag is going on?" Cliffjumper demanded as he realized that Mirage was sprawled over his lap.

Mirage hissed before a clawed hand pinched at his neck lines, causing the minibot to gasp in pain. "Watch your mouth!" Mirage rasped angrily.

Meanwhile, Hound was chuckling at the sight. "Is that the thanks I get, Cliffjumper? Why, I thought you were just a little cold, so I sent Mirage over to warm you up. . ."

"I don't need any warming up," Cliffjumper retorted indignantly.

Another mocking chortle came from Hound's vocalizer, "But you'll hurt 'Raj's feelings. . ."

"I don't care, you glitches!" Cliffjumper clucked.

For his words, Cliffumper was slapped again by Mirage before he found himself silenced when the lithe mech atop him pressed his lips against the minibot's.

Half choking, Cliffjumper was soon thrashing when Mirage's hands started to edge lower and lower.

"C'mon, CJ, who wouldn't want to be touched by my Mirage?" Hound remarked in the backround.

By this point, Cliffjumper was hardly paying any attention to Hound. The minibot's thoughts completely left him when Mirage shoved his glossa into his mouth. Pleasure tingled over Cliffjumper's sensory grids, warming his frame over. Mirage's claws were soon hooking into the seams of Cliffjumper's panel, causing him to gasp into Mirage's mouth.

Cliffjumper would be lying if he said he wasn't finding the experience pleasurable. The minibot would also have been lying if he dared to claim he got much action at all in his own universe. Yet, he was still dumbfounded by his arousal to Mirage's actions. Mirage's glossa receded from his oral cavity just before the lithe mech nipped Cliffjumper. Then Mirage licked against his cheek before lowering his head. Mirage nipped his chin, before soothing it with a sweep of his glossa. Leaving a shimmer of oral fluids, Mirage's lips were soon on Cliffjumper's neck, mouthing the cords while his hips wiggled side to side against the minibot's closed interface. A moan escaped Cliffjumer, and his helm dropped back as Mirage's hands traced over his chest.

Why wasn't he resisting this?

Heat thrummed over his frame, mixing and mingling with the heat that was coming off of Mirage. Mirage shifted upon his lap, edging forward until proceeding to grind against Cliffjumper's closed panel. The groan that came from Cliffjumper prompted a smile from Mirage, who turned his helm back. Through misted optics, Cliffjumper could see Mirage looking back at the broad green mech who must've been enjoying the show.

Unable to take much, Cliffjumper's panel opened with a soft whoosh revealing his interface below.

A coo left Mirage, who had already looked at the open interface before exchanging another look with Hound. "He looks so unused," Mirage rasped as his violet optics dimmed.

"Is that so?" Hound asked as he propped an arm on the ledge a wall. "Why don't you use him a little, hmm?" Hound proposed.

"Ah. . . Hound. . . you would offer that to me. . .?" Mirage asked with bright, amaranthine optics.

"Yes, he's surely too small for me," Hound mused. "Why don't you uncuff him? Take him from behind, hmm?" Hound suggested.

"Oooh, yes, of course, anything," Mirage chirped, half bouncing atop Cliffjumper's lap, who was all too stunned. It felt like he was watching the whole event from far away.

In the next instance, Cliffjumper found himself shoved forward, face plates against the coarse duracrete floor. Mirage was atop him in the next moment, wrestling with the stasis cuffs. As soon as they were off, the minibot's aching arms fell forward. The muscle cables were especially stiff, numb even. It was hard for Cliffjumper to even lift himself slightly so he wasn't resting his face against the surface below.

Hearing a soft click, Cliffjumper knew that Mirage must've opened his panel. Shivering, the minibot's optics narrowed as he pressed his shaking hands to the surface, trying to distribute his weight more evenly.

Was he actually wanting this?

Mirage had always been attractive to him, physically. How could the mech not be? He was lithe, slender and sleek, with long, slim legs, that only complimented the curvier upper frame. Not only that, Mirage had exceptionally attractive facial plates, facial plates that even rivaled Sunstreaker's; why was this Mirage covering so much of his face?

Sharply, Cliffjumper reminded himself that this was not the Mirage of his world. This was some sick perversion of the mech he had known. A mech, in his verse, that he had hardly cared for despite his physical beauty.

It was then that Mirage decided to remind Cliffjumper of his position.

A howl left Cliffjumper as Mirage pressed his spike into him. It was hardly painful, however. In fact, it was intensely pleasurable. Heat raced up his frame while Mirage hilted himself within the minibot below him. From the sensation, Mirage's spike was long, long enough to reach the very back recesses of his valve, but not terribly thick. Given Cliffjumper's size, this was a blessing from Primus. Had Mirage been any thicker, the minibot was sure he would've been in pain.

Instead, it was pleasure, pure pleasure. In fact, it felt perfect, but Cliffjumper tore that thought away. A groan left Cliffjumper when Mirage began to rest his weight upon his backstrut while his hips snapped back, before thrusting forward. The twisted version of Mirage growled in ecstacy while quickly working his pace up. The minibot was left writhing and moaning beneath the mech atop him.

Mirage's thrusts were quick, but long, and the angle managed to tease sensor nodes in the minibot's valve that he didn't know he had. Besides his own moans and Mirage's own pleasured sounds, Cliffjumper could hear the slick smack of each thrust as it pushed out the lubricant that was dripping from his interface. Pain suddenly flooded Cliffjumper's systems as he felt Mirage's denta sink into the plating on his shoulder. Yet the pleasure wasn't dimmed, not in the least. When Mirage sped up even more, the minibot only moaned louder as those denta held tight to his shoulder.

With the pace and his disused interface, Cliffjumper didn't last long. Crying out, his valve pulled taut about Mirage's intruding spike, which cause the lithe mech to howl out louder as his denta came unlatched from a red shoulder. While Cliffjumper overloaded, Mirage's strokes became all the shorter and frenzied even. With a final thrust, Mirage slammed himself into Cliffjumper. Cliffjumper wiggled and gasped at the sensation of hot transfluid spilling into his valve as Mirage overloaded.

For several moments, the only sounds were their little gasps and pants. Condensation dripped from both Cliffjumper's and Mirage's plating. A groan left Cliffjumper as Mirage pulled himself free, allowing the collected transfluid to drip down Cliffjumper's thighs. As the silvery fluid splattered upon the rough flooring below, Mirage flicked his glossa out to lick at Cliffjumper's cheek.

"Good," came Hound's voice suddenly before the large mech started to chuckle.

Wearily looking up, Cliffjumper was worried at the sight of Hound standing. Not only that, the broad mech's panel had retracted and his spike, exceptionally large, was extended. Frightened, Cliffjumper started to rear back before he was restrained by the suddenly energized Mirage. Slender arms slipped under the minibot's arms before yanking back, holding the minibot still and upon his knees.

"Don't worry Cliffjumper, I know well enough that valve is far too small for me," teased Hound before he closed the small distance that had formed between the three mechs. Continuing to wiggle about, Cliffjumper found his chin captured by one of Hound's wide hands before a roughened thumb brushed over his lips. "However, this big mouth of yours should do nicely," Hound commented while a soft lilt left Mirage's lips.

Rearing his helm back, Cliffjumper tried to get away, only to find his face grasped by Hound's hand.

"Now don't be like that, you wouldn't want to do this the hard way, would you? I could always change my mind about your valve," Hound threatened lowly. "Besides, if you're good, I'll have Mirage pleasure you in some way, and you know you liked that. . ." Hound teased.

What other choice did the minibot really have?

"Just go on. . ." Mirage whispered into Cliffjumper's audio receptor. "If you behave, Hound'll treat you. . ." the lithe mech drawled as he rubbed his frame against Cliffjumper's back.

For some reason, Cliffjumper was especially pliant to the two, and he was starting to think that the two of them must've drugged him!

"Open," Hound murmured as he took Cliffjumper's jaw again, and minibot complied, spreading his mouth open. Cliffjumper's optics couldn't have missed that grin on Hound's lips if he had tried. Rocking his hips forward, Hound pressed the tip of his generous spike past the threshold of the minibot's lips. A shiver worked down Cliffjumper's backstrut as the ridges of that spike started to brush his lips. Before he knew it, Cliffjumper found Hound's spike pressing insistantly down his throat.

Optics widening, the minibot nearly thrashed but for the soft, "Shhh, shhh," coming from Mirage who was still rubbing himself against him.

Above him, Hound gave a soft groan, his expression pleasured as he pressed further and further down Cliffjumper's throat. It wasn't painful, thankfully, though it left a strange sensation for him as his central throat cable swelled with Hound's excessive girth being pressed down it. "Good, good," Hound purred, his voice thick with ecstacy.

Finally, Cliffjumper's lips came to press against Hound's spike housing and the minibot couldn't believe that Hound had really shoved all of his length down his throat. Trying to swallow, Cliffjumper had little room to move his glossa with the intruder. Hound reached his hands out, gripping to the sides of Cliffjumper's helm before he drew his hips back slowly. Drawing his spike nearly out of Cliffjumper's mouth, and throat by extension, the larger mech slowly rocked his hips forward again. Over and over, would Hound repeat the action, pressing himself into Cliffjumper's mouth before pulling back, only to press back in.

With a grunt, Hound spoke, "Ahh, good little Cliffhumper. . . Don't think you've ever done this, hmm?" Smiling, the broad Autobot looked to Mirage who held Cliffjumper. "Go ahead, take him again, make him moan against me," Hound whispered.

A smile that Cliffjumper could not see appeared on Mirage's lips. The slender mech lowered his hips as he began to angle himself. Cliffjumper could feel the heat radiating off of Mirage's interface before the spike pressed into him again.

Moaning, Cliffjumper shook against his captors. Both of the two mechs were gaining pace, Hound thrusting into his mouth, down his throat, and Mirage pressing into his valve. Pleasure seared over the minibot's circuits as he reached his hands up to grip at Hound's hips for balance. Hound's hand's shifted, grabbing at the back of Cliffjumper's helm before shoving the minibot's mouth completely down his throat. A filling heat settled at the bottom of his tank as Hound stilled. While Hound had become motionless, Mirage was still working for his and Cliffjumper's second overload.

It wouldn't be long off.

Speared upon Hound's spike, Cliffjumper let out a muffled moan as his valve pulled tight against Mirage's spike for a second time. Cliffjumper's tightening valve only drove Mirage faster. After several fevered moments, Mirage hit overload as well, filling the minibot's valve with transfluid. Around him, the world suddenly grew muddled even grey before a voice cut through Cliffjumper's haze.

"Heh, what the slag are you dreaming about?"

Snapping online, Cliffjumper looked about with bright optics, thrashing even, only to find his wrists bound. Across from him laid Hound and Mirage. Hound was seated and Mirage was still in recharge, his helm against Hound's lap. A wicked smile lingered on Hound's features as his scarlet optics stared at the frazzled Cliffjumper.

"N-Nothing," Cliffjumper weakly muttered.

"Nothing, hmmm? That's not what my olfactory sensors tell me," Hound chuckled before leaning back. "Nice to see your CPU is just as much on that as your late alternate," Hound remarked.

Frowning, Cliffjumper looked away as the faint scent of ozone wafted into his olfactory sensors. With Hound's keen sense, the larger mech had probably smelt him as soon as that dream had gotten him aroused. At least it had been only a dream, though he thought it would be some time before he could shake the illusions from only moments ago.


	4. Chapter 4

It was an interesting game.

A grin played over his features that were sharp, but attractive, at least to most. The mech's cheek ridges were sharp, giving him an appearance that just hovered above something that may have been considered gaunt. His nasal ridge was one smooth, sweeping line, not bent and broken. While his lips were thin, though not terribly so, it suited his keen optics.

Meters away, he knew there were mechs tailing him as he tracked after two, no, three mechs now. Crouched, his digits were pressed just slightly into the soil, if it could be called that. Looking over his shoulder, Sideswipe dimmed his crimson optics. Pale light played over the ruins, and at times, the landscape appeared to crawl.

They were hungry, and so was Sideswipe, but he had another mission to complete.

Slag that minibot, the green and charcoal mech thought with a glower. The once mercenary, turn Autobot, come Decepticon had grown tired of being an emberling sitter and he longer for a good fight. It wasn't just Cliffjumper; who he didn't believe to be an emberling, just ignorant of the word, but rather nearly every mundane mission. Sometimes he believed himself a bar of electrum among slag when it came to those Decepticons.

But never mind that.

Standing, Sideswipe sulked for the barest moment before he loped off into the direction of the mechs he was following. The first set of tracks were easy to spot, even for a novice tracker. Sideswipe hardly prided himself on being a decent tracker. He wasn't Hound, after all. However, he could make out that someone was injured, no doubt Cliffjumper. The tracks were close together, and by the time he came to that hidden tunnel, parts of the tracks had been hastily concealed. There was a third, at very least. Given that he couldn't find any other markers of this third mech, and the territory, Sideswipe had a good hunch who he was tracking besides Cliffjumper.

Not bothering to obscure the tunnel, Sideswipe followed it. From down the corridor, he could hear the taps and scratches of others entering. Let them come, Sideswipe thought as he continued through the darkened passage that was lit by his night vision.

A frustrated snarl left Sideswipe as he came to the opening of the tunnel, into what remained of some forlorn tower. Stepping down from the tunnel's mouth, Sideswipe crouched low as he flicked his claws over the unburnished flooring. There were little flecks of paint that he could just barely pick out. Red, green, blue, and black. He was right, Sideswipe realized as he narrowed his optics.

Glancing behind him, Sideswipe could hear the faint moans and rattling of those hordes of starving creatures behind him. Where he stood would be a perfect place to take them on, right there, at the tunnel's entrance where he could properly bottleneck the ravenous horde. But no, he didn't have the time, and it was pertinent that he retrieve Cliffjumper and not just for Megatron's sake.

Bounding over the retaining wall, Sideswipe leapt onto the slope that led towards where those three mechs had gone. It would be harder tracking now, with the three of them together. Hound would be doing well to cover their tracks, whether he believed they were being trailed by simple processed Lost or an ignited hunter like Sideswipe.

Early morning sunlight bled over the landscape as Sideswipe padded into another derelict city. Holding his shoulders squared as he loped easily along, the former Autobot was clearly at ready incase of an ambush. More than a few hollowed out buildings still stood in the dusty plain that was beginning to heat up. Tracking the three mechs had become far more difficult than what it had been, but so far, Sideswipe was still going in the correct direction.

Every so often, Sideswipe would see a thin swath of red paint on a building or some other telling little mark that had been missed by a certain rather arrogant tracker. The minibot was proving to be not as stupid or as short sighted as his predecessor, Sideswipe thought with a smile. Running his clawed digits over one such mark, Sideswipe soon departed.

Dunes of silica obscured Sideswipe's path, and he moved quickly, well aware of other predators, cyberwolves to be precise. He didn't have any other choice but to move so quickly and rashly through the wasteland. Even now, wind whipped around, carrying little beads of silica that struck his plating, that over time, would strip his paint. Yet more importantly, any signs of the three mechs he was tracking would be lost if he tarried any longer. Where were they going? Sideswipe questioned as he held a hand over his optics. Looking into the distance, the air seemed to move, wavering and wrinkling before his scarlet optics. The heat was thick, so thick that it made the energon ration that he had taken earlier, stick to the back of his throat cables. The sickly sweet taste was an annoyance to say the least, but Sideswipe ignored it as he continued on.

Taking a moment, but continuing his walking, Sideswipe subbed out a holo map. Tapping out his position, Sideswipe frowned at where he was. To the north, in the direction he was heading, was the rust sea. What did Hound want with those lands? No matter, Sideswipe told himself. His mission was to retrieve Cliffjumper, though he was sure he would surely enjoy ripping Hound and Mirage to pieces. If Sideswipe had to extract his revenge on the Autobots piece by piece, then so be it, Sideswipe mused with a sharp grin. Caught up in his plan for retribution, Sideswipe did not notice that familiar flicker over his ember as he continued towards the rust sea.

It was night again, and already the temperature had dropped. Sideswipe always preferred the cold over the heat. The cold wasn't quite so taxing, he thought as silica dunes parted into hard, rusted metal that formed the planet's skin. Portions of it were broken, rippled or buckled, other parts jutted into the air, forming rusty red cliffs and ledges. Like the ruins beyond the sand dunes, the area was crawling with lost mechs. Looking into the distance that was shrouded by the falling dark, Sideswipe had yet to catch up with his targets. Such a thing frustrated Sideswipe to no end, though he was sure he was now only a few hours behind the three. Taking a step forward, Sideswipe found himself stopped at the sound of a voice cutting through the night's chilly air.

"Have you nothing to say to me that you would just walk by?"

Helm whipping about, Sideswipe growled as he zeroed his optics onto a skeletal structure of iron that he hadn't considered previously. Movement stirred from within it, and a pair of optics, crimson like his, lit up from with the 'ribs' of the structure. The mech stepped forward, revealing himself under the pale light of the two moons over head. The new comer's frame was similar to Sideswipe's, though his helm was considerably different in the way two fin like protrusions framed his dermal plating. The new mech was bronze where Sideswipe was green, and violet where Sideswipe was charcoal.

Continuing to growl, Sideswipe spat out the mech's designation, "Sunstreaker."

The named mech continued to stride forward, each step effortless and smooth. Under the dim moonlight, Sunstreaker's haunting but still beautiful features became apparent. Sunstreaker's lips were neither too wide, or too narrow, neither too thick, or too thin, though the middle of his bottom lip was just thick enough to give him an almost perpetual petulance. His nasal ridge was unbroken, a singular, and smooth arch, and his optics were neither beady or bulbous. Instead they were long and slightly tilted.

"What do you want?" Sideswipe barked.

In response, Sunstreaker clicked his glossa, "Is that anyway to greet your twin after what I've done for you?"

"You're an Autobot," Sideswipe remarked as he reared his helm back. "I'd skewer you if it wouldn't kill me," the Decepticon threatened.

"Heh," Sunstreaker responded, a smirk appearing on his lips, "I'm only an Autobot because it suits my goals and purposes. For the moment at least," Sunstreaker continued.

"You're playing with fire."

"Some might say the same of you."

"Spit it out, Sunstreaker, what do you want? Why are you here?" Sideswipe hissed with narrowed optics.

His twin turned away before crossing his arms. Sideswipe hated how the mech played games, and despite being bonded with his twin, like any ember twins were, he couldn't make helm or aft out of what Sunstreaker had up his subspace or what his intents were.

"Prime is searching for something in the ruins of Praxus, something incredibly important. Maybe a weapon," Sunstreaker revealed in a bland tone.

"If that's all you have to tell me, then you can slag off. Megatron's had enough scouts in the area to tell us that much," Sideswipe spat.

"Tch, you didn't let me finish. Whatever the case, what ever he's looking for is enough for him to put the Ark project on the back burners. What ever he's looking for, it has something to do with how your little, horned friend got here," Sunstreaker mused as he looked over his shoulder.

Pursing his lips, Sideswipe took a step back when Sunstreaker had turned around. The next moment, Sunstreaker had closed the small distance between them and Sideswipe found himself jerking away when his twin's hands had pressed to his chest plates.

In a whisper, Sunstreaker revealed just a little more, "As much energy as it took for whatever it was that brought Cliffjumper here, it's practically insignificant in comparison in just the fuel it takes to get an Ark spacecraft off the ground. . . Can you imagine if Prime could just ravage any other verse? What he could do with such a power?"

Caught up in Sunstreaker's words, Sideswipe hadn't even realized how close his twin had gotten. Their lips were only a scant distance away. Just before Sunstreaker could have the chance to steal a kiss, Sideswipe had reared his helm back.

"I don't have time for this, Sunstreaker," Sideswipe hissed dryly before he started to push his twin away.

"Not even a quicky?" Sunstreaker asked with a teasing smirk.

"Not even a quicky," Sideswipe snapped.

"Too bad," Sunstreaker sighed, feigning hurt before he parted from Sideswipe.

Giving a hmph, Sideswipe refused to indulge Sunstreaker. At least for this meeting.

"Well, since that is the case, you had better get going. After all, Hound knows everything I just told you, and probably more. I don't know who he is working for, but I know it's not Prime, despite the shows of loyalty he puts on when the heat of the slag pits starts to melt the paint off his aft," Sunstreaker drawled faintly.

"And who do you work for Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe questioned, the venom in his voice apparent.

A smile appeared on Sunstreaker's lips, half mad, half stunningly beautiful. "Why, my dear brother, only for us," Sunstreaker mused before turning his back.

For several moments, Sideswipe was still as his hawkish features remained trained on Sunstreaker's back. Yet the mech didn't so much as turn around to look at him as he padded off. To the west, Sideswipe noted, probably back to Iacon to do what ever it was he was doing.


End file.
